Ages
by Envious Writer
Summary: Look, I'm no good with titles. It's a good story, though. I love it. And I wrote it, so that's actually staying a lot. Snape, while cleaning his classroom, finds a journal that changes everything.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm a poor little high school girl filled with failure and lack of skill. I do not own the masterpiece that is Harry Potter or the ever lovely Severus Snape  
Snape: Please… Don't call me lovely.  
Me: Oh, but you are!  
Snape: *sighs* children… sickening.  
Oh, he loves me. I know it. ^_^ *giggle* Anyway, it's the first time I've written an HP fan-fiction in god-knows how many months. So! We'll see how it goes, a'right? :D  
Warnings: This is Snarry fiction. It's gay. If it sickens you, please go look up some Romione and get over it. It's not HBP compliant in the least and I refuse to allow Dumby die, much less at Severus' hand, in ANY fic I write.  
Anywho... Enjoy!  
PS I've just realized I don't have any good tasty Snarry smut up on my account yet! I guess this will be the first. *does a little dance* I love it so.

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\==

Severus Snape fought back a groan of agony as he watched his failure of a class struggle to concoct the simple healing potion he'd assigned. The level of this potion was that of second year and yet, his fifth year students seemed to have no idea what to do with it. He didn't mind all that much, though, as he was teaching his personal favorite combination of houses. His Slytherins and their rivals, the Gryffindors, always made for an interesting class. He had always found an odd sort of amusement out of tormenting Gryffindors for the Slytherins' pleasure. His favorite student, Draco Malfoy, got a great kick out of it, leading his classmates in taunts and jeers.  
Severus surveyed the room, taking in the disaster zone. The Longbottom boy, useless whenever it came to potions class, was flailing about, trying to rescue his potion from the brink of explosion, under the watchful and helpful eye of the frizzy haired know-it-all Granger girl. Severus sneered at the pair and looked away quickly.  
On the other side of the room, Draco sat next to the youngest Weasley boy and they bickered playfully back and forth as they worked on their potion. Severus rolled his eyes. The two had been together for over a month and were still trying to keep it all secret. Severus had to admit, begrudgingly, if he didn't already know, he never would have guessed. Slytherins and Gryffindors together was a rarity, but two boys from rival houses? That was almost completely unheard of - that's not to say homosexuality was uncommon in Hogwarts, but most of the homosexual relationships were hidden, out of habit and fear of an ancient prejudice that died with Merlin and his gay lover. But still he'd been totally shocked when Draco had confided in him and had agreed to help them - which turned out to be harder than Severus had anticipated; the number of times he had to pull Draco out of a broom closet or set a silencing charm on a normally empty classroom... he shook his head.  
Severus continued his scan across the class and finally, he found what he had been looking for: young Potter. Severus sneered as he thought of the boy. Potter had always been a bother. Swollen-headed and stubborn, much like his father, he was loud, obnoxious and rude. And too pretty. The Potter family square build and tousled dark hair combined far too nicely with the Evans' family fair skin and long face for Severus' liking. Too distracting. Severus' sneer deepened and he hid a growl of agitation. Stupid gorgeous stubborn overly-intelligent Potter... Look at him, sitting there, writing away in his little leather book, not a care in the world - well, except Voldemort and the whole orphan business... and Draco flashing him an evil grin every now and again... and having to save the world. For someone with so many problems, Potter seemed to handle them fairly well - sitting in the back of an advanced NEWT level potions class, slowly stirring what looked like a perfectly made potion and scribbling in his little black book, face calm and at ease. How could someone so young and yet so important look so unaffected?  
Severus wiped his face of all emotion, replaced his sneer of hatred with something a little lighter and stood to make his way down the aisles. He made a snide comment at Longbottom, who looked close to tears, took points from a few more Gryffindors, smiled at his Slytherins, awarded Draco points just to do so and finally arrived at Potter's desk.  
Potter did not look concerned or bothered. He looked almost happy, as he closed his notebook, dropped it to the ground and awaited judgment, smiling lightly. Severus fought the urge to snarl. Damn Potter and his ridiculous half smile. He diverted his gaze, looking instead down to the simmering cauldron before him.

"And what..." Severus drawled effortlessly, "Is this?"

The rest of the class fell silent, in anticipation for some proper Potter bashing. The Gryffindors sat twitching in their seats.

"This is the potion you assigned. Just as you instructed. Sir," Potter replied, grinning confidently, adding the 'sir' with only a small amount of smugness.  
"Indeed... And you believe this is... sufficient?" Severus smirked, turning the stirring rod slowly with the tip of his spindly potion-stained fingers.

Potter simply nodded, eyes locked on Severus' hand, an almost... lustful gleam in his eyes. Severus arched an eyebrow and removed his hands and placing them instead on the table edge. Potter looked up at him again and had the common sense to blush and look down to his lap.

"Yes, sir," he murmured.  
"Very well, then. Draco, fetch me an empty vial. I am going to sample Potter's potion."

Potter's head snapped up again, eyes wide.

"What, you mean... you mean now?" he said, voice slightly higher in pitch than usually. Severus smirked.  
"When else, Potter, would I test this? You're not worried, are you? It's perfect, isn't it, if you followed all my instructions correctly this time..."

There was cold laughter from the Slytherins, which Severus ignored, attention still locked on Potter's face. Potter stared back, quietly, eyes full of something other than the usual rage and disdain and defiance. Severus waited.  
Draco approached him after a moment, clutching an empty vial and smirking down at Potter cruelly. Severus ignored the idea of slapping the arrogant child, snatched the vial and ushered him back to his seat. Severus noticed the Weasley boy pinching Draco when he sat down into his seat. Draco pouted. Severus rolled his eyes. He looked once more down to Potter, who looked back. There was definitely something different about the way Potter looked at him - something new in those eyes, perhaps...  
Severus shook himself mentally, sneer rising once more, as he ladled some of the hot potion into the vial and swirled it slowly. He watched Potter's reaction as he blew the steam off the top and tilted the vial back to drink it all in one gulp. He waited. There was nothing. He smirked. And then he froze, eyebrows rising in confusion as a rush of warm air filled him and expanded, flooding through his veins and relaxing the years of tension from his muscles. He felt the cobwebs slip away from the corners of his mind and then a twinge shot through his left arm, leaving a heat in his fingertips. He flexed his hands reflexively and stared down at Potter. Potter simply smiled again, eyes glittering with that something-different-about-it look.  
Severus slid into his sneer quickly and sniffed.

"Sludge," he announced, with a new clip to his voice, "Detention, Potter. Tomorrow night at 8. Do not be late."  
"Yes... sir," Harry - Potter, Severus reprimanded himself, not Harry - replied, ducking to hide his own smirk.

Severus spun and marched to the front of the room, trying hard not to notice the new bounce in his step or how the old fluidity and grace came easier. He turned back to the class, glaring.

"Bottle your samples and clean up. For homework, I want a two foot essay on the uses of porcupine quill in healing potions and its effects."

There was a great clatter of chairs as everyone stood and began filling vials. Severus watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Potter pulled a flask from his back pocket and filled it with his potion before stowing it away in his bag. Severus chose not to say anything.  
The bell rang and there was a great fuss to get out of the room as fast as possible, chattering and laughter adding to the din as the students left. For a moment, Severus simply sat and felt. Potter's potion was still sliding through him, flowing like water through his body, recharging his mind and vibrating through his bones. Eventually, he stood again and made his way slowly across the room, spelling clean whatever messes were left behind and sweeping scraps of parchment off the floor into the bin. As he approached the back of the room, he noticed something resting against the leg of one of his tables. It was a thin leather notebook, worn and a little tattered, but in an 'old money' sort of way. It took Severus a moment to realize that it was the notebook Potter had been scribbling in. He sneered and almost rolled his eyes, before remembering he was more mature than that and so instead, merely sighed and picked it up. It was oddly warm in his hand and something inside him shivered. There was shuffle of feet from outside the door, announcing the arrival of his new class and Severus tucked the book quickly into his inner pocket, before gliding to the door to let the students in. He would just have to return the journal to Potter at his detention.

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\== 


	2. Chapter 2

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\==

Severus slid with a quiet groan onto the plush leather couch of his private chambers, laying a hand over his eyes to block out the light. It had been a painfully long day. Between the hell of his last class of the day - first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws (where the idea that Ravenclaws were smart came from was beyond Severus) - and the overly intrusive visit from Albus right before dinner about 'how Severus was feeling', he was in need of a large tumbler of something stronger than tea and a long nights sleep. However, the bottle of seventeenth century elvish wine was in the cabinet all the way in his small tea room, tucked under the sink and Severus was very surely not walking all the way across the room. So, he lay on his back for god knows how long, staring blankly at the stone ceiling of his rooms, considering the treck to the tea room and then to his large warm bed, until eventually a small stabbing feeling in his side finally caught his attention.  
He rolled slightly and pulled from his inner pocket the journal he had found so many hours earlier. He stared at it, nothing really going through his head, until eventually the curiosity that had been niggling at the corner of his mind since he'd seen Potter writing in it earlier overcame him and he opened it. Or at least, that's what he tried to do. Instead a voice echoed from the dusty cover - Severus recognised it as Potter's.

"What are you doing with my diary?" the voice rang out, as if Potter was there in the room. Severus ignored the urge to look around for him and instead spoke to the book.  
"You left it under your desk in class," Severus sneered, "So if you don't mind I'm going to read it."  
"Since you asked so nicely," the book replied snidely, "No. I do mind and you aren't reading my book. Who is this, anyway?"  
"How do you plan on stopping me from reading this?" Severus said, ignoring the question.  
"Counter-jinxes, curses and a few locking charms I learned from the Weasley twins. I asked who you were."  
"None of your business," Severus snapped, growing annoyed with the whole pointless thing. He was arguing with a book - a book of Potter's - simply because he was curious. He knew he ought to stop, but something inside of him was insisting he read the damn thing. So he set the book down on the table, pulled out his wand and paused.  
"How is it you're talking to me?"  
"Simple spell," the voice was nonchalant and Severus could almost imagine Potter sitting there in front him, shrugging, "Found it in a book I picked out of the restricted section. Something called the Bottled Mind spell. Put all my thoughts into the book in a verbal sort of way so that when you talk to this book, it's like talking to the real me. How do you like it?" now the voice sounded a little anxious, "You're the first person to talk to me - it - this book. Whatever. Is it good?"

Severus was astounded. The spell Potter was speaking of was something that took years of practice and an immensely large amount of powerful magic. And yet, the boy made it sound like something even a mentally-challenged first year Hufflepuff could do. Severus shivered inwardly, but did not voice his astonishment.

"It's wonderful," Severus sneered, "Can I... please, read this book?"  
"Why do you want to so bad...?"  
Severus decided to be honest - maybe then the book would allow him entrance.  
"I saw you writing in it in my classroom this afternoon. I'm curious."  
There was a moment of confused silence from the book.  
"So you're a professor...? But I don't write in it in any of my... oh... Oh! Well... I mean... Fine."

Severus waited. There was a sort of finality in the last word and then a quiet, but all too clear click. Severus stared down at the book before reaching down and testing the cover again. Only this time, it fell open without any restriction. Severus sat gracefully down and began flipping through the book, eyebrows rising only slightly when he saw that they were all blank.

"Really, Potter? All those complex jinxes and anti-theft spells and you use a simple invisible ink? How amateur."  
"Oh shut up," the book responded quietly. Severus snorted.

He waved his wand over the page, murmuring a quiet "Aparecium," and began to read the words as they slid into place.

"Dear journal (Hermione says you're a diary, but that seems to girly),  
I got this from Florish and Blotts this summer and thought why not keep a log of my thoughts over the school year? Nothing seriously, mostly a... what did she call it? A 'stream of conscious'. Whatever that means. Anyway! You're just to get the thoughts out of my head. Maybe if I write about him enough, I won't have to think about him as much.

HA.

Here's hoping.  
-Harry"

Severus' eyebrows rose again, higher, as he flipped to the last page and read the last entry.

"Journal,  
Today is HELL.  
Detention with that Umbridge woman tonight and an hour in a small dungeon cell with Snape. The man drives me nuts," Severus sneered and glared at the page. If he thinks so little of him, then don't think about him at all, "The way he looks at me sometimes - especially when I'm alone - and how he gets in my face and how close he gets and those sexy little smirks of his..."

Severus froze, rereading that sentence twice before bending closer to the book and continuing.

"He's such a git. A ridiculous, annoying, cruel, cold-hearted, sexy, irresistible mystery wrapped in a bundle of sensuality - like that word? I found it in the thesaurus. Hermione thinks I should extend my vocabulary. See, the problem is, though, that I keep remembering my dream from last night - same one as every other night this past term. The one about detention, bent over his desk...? So I have to constantly think about Ron and Draco doing it so I don't get to lost in it. Ah well. Here he comes to snark over my potion failure - which he can't, because it's perfect - and give me detention - which I hope he does, because maybe if I'm lucky, he'll make my dream come true. Time for a little of my 'infamous' lip - I'd take him inside my lips.  
Ha.

Wish me luck,  
-Harry."

Severus sat still, staring in quiet disbelief at the signature glaring against the bleached white paper. He slowly read through the entry again and again, as if attempting to absorb it into his brain with his eyes. Then, after reading it a dozen times over, he slowly closed the diary, just as slowly set it on the table and then keeled over sideways on the couch.  
Potter - arrogant, son of his mortal enemy, swollen-headed, failure at potions, gorgeous tan Potter - was in love with him... No. Severus shook his head. Not love, just lust. A school boy crush that would pass as soon as something better wandered by. But still...  
Something flashed through Severus's mind - an image which was far from unpleasant - of Potter, head tipped back, those vibrant green eyes flashing with that sort of sensual lustful gleam from class earlier that day, his lips parted in a pant, cheeks fully pinked and a fine sheen of sweat on his face. Severus shuddered and clamped his eyes shut.

"So you've read it, then?"

Severus sat up, quickly, hand in his pocket and looked around, suddenly alert and on edge. But there was no one there.

"Hello? Down here!"

Severus looked down at his small glass coffee table, eyebrows furrowing. It was the infernal diary again.

"Forgot I could talk, did you?" the diary said in Potter's voice, sounding far too smug for Severus' liking, "So you've read it, then...? Now you know?"  
"Oh yes, book, I've read you and now I know why Potter has been so odd lately. Lusting after me like some pup in heat? A pathetic school boy crush?" Severus sneered, "I expected better from him."  
"You did?"  
"Always the tone of surprise, Potter..." Severus grumbled, "Yes, book, I did. Swollen-headed, idiotic, son of his father though he may be, I always thought Potter was ruled by more than his needs," he stretched the last word and smirked.

There was silence from the book for a good long moment, leaving Severus to his thoughts, but when it spoke again, it's tone was soft and there was a slight quaver to it.

"It's... more than a school boy crush, you know... He's been like this a long time. He only just started writing about you, but the way he writes... even as a book, I can tell you mean a lot to him - even if you are a snarky asshole of a git."  
"Says the talking book who thinks it knows what it's talking about," Severus sneered, "Just shut up."

The book fell quiet, although Severus could almost feel the sulking edge to it's silence. Severus stalked over to his tea room, set the kettle on to boil - he preferred his tea prepared that way - and slumped into the seat by his small wooden table. He stared at his boiling pot, eyes half shuttered, mind miles away, up in Gryffindor tower, with the Golden Boy and his stupid scar.

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\== 


	3. Chapter 3

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\==

Sometime around two in the morning, a series of loud echoing knocks woke a very unhappy Severus, who had been forced out of a very pleasant dream full of tan skin, black hair and hard wood desks. Slowly, shaking the hazes of sleep from the corners of his eyes, Severus shuffled over to the door of his private room, dragging on his favorite black night robe and grumbling.

"Irritating, brain dead children... no respect for other people's rest... What do you want?" Severus said, as he slid the heavy oak door open to reveal... Potter? "Potter, twenty points from Gryffindor for being out late. What do you want?"

Potter, hair more disheveled than usual, bright green eyes wide with quiet fear and awe, glasses slightly lopsided and clothed only in a pair of striped pajamas and a gray night robe, seemed unfazed by the docked points. He stood in silence for a moment, staring up at Severus, who slowly remembered what he'd read in Potter's diary a few hours earlier. He twitched, only slightly, but Potter seemed to noticed, for he looked down at his feet.

"You have my diary, Professor."

This was not a question; Potter knew quite well that Severus had his diary, the alarms he had set on it would have told him so. Severus leaned back against the door frame and stared down his hooked nose at the abashed Gryffindor. Damn him, he looked even more beautiful when he blushed. Severus' eyes narrowed and he smirked.

"Interesting read, your diary, Potter," Severus said, with a nasty laugh in his voice. Potter looked up, face still pink, but eyes determined, "Very interesting read, indeed..."  
"I'd like it back, sir, if you don't mind," was Potter's only reply.

Severus sighed, irritated, but turned back, walking into his rooms to retrieve it from the table where he left it. When he turned back around, Potter was no longer standing in the doorway, waiting - he had taken the opportunity to enter, eyes flying around the room as if trying to memorize every detail. Severus allowed him to stand there for a moment, taking the time to take in Potter's total appearance. The skin of Potter's face and neck was lightly tanned, making the green of his eyes only more pronounced; the visible skin on Potter's chest pale and bare, but clung tight over slight, wiry muscles. The pajama pants, slung low over Potter's hips, were dangerously close to dipping too far down - even at their current height, Severus could see the thin black trail of hair that led below the waist band.  
Severus shook himself and cleared his throat, striding across the room to the distracted Potter, pushing the diary against his naked chest.

"Out, Potter," Severus said, attempting to sound harsh, but managing only to sound slightly husky. He shook his head again, "Now. Before I dock more points for disturbing a teacher after hours."  
"So... you've read it, right?" Potter said, ignoring Severus' orders. His eyes were now once again locked on his toes, making Severus wondering, irked, what was so interesting about them.  
"Yes, Potter I've read it. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone that you're infatuated with a snarky greasy bat," Severus sneered.  
"Good, good..." Potter replied distracted. He inhaled and seemed to drag up some unknown courage, "Then I won't have to explain this."

And then Potter was on him, clutching into his robe, lips slamming onto his in an inexperienced violent kiss, his hips rolling hard against Severus', rubbing proof of his affection into Severus's skin through the thin pajama pants. Severus's body roared its clear approval and within seconds he was achingly hard, but still he could not move his hands, frozen solid by the suddenness of it all. His mind was at war.  
Potter's son - Potter's pratty, little, prickish, sixteen year old student at Hogwarts, son - Lily's baby boy - Harry... Fucking gorgeous, too mature for his own good, forced into danger by a foolish old man, achingly hard, rocking against his hip and whining Harry.  
Severus crumbled and fisted his hand into the front Harry's robes, yanking him against him with enough force to carry him with him as Severus fell back onto the couch, Harry sprawled over his lap, lips still greedily clamped over Severus'. Severus pulled back, out of Harry's kissing range and gave him an affectionate smirk of disbelief.  
"First time, Potter? Really, now?"  
Harry flushed straight to the tips of his ears, but looked back defiantly.  
"No! I've kissed other people..."  
"A tearful kiss goodbye from Molly Weasley doesn't count, Potter."  
"For your information, I've kissed Terry Boot, under the bleachers and he said I was fairly good."  
Severus growled, flashing him a dangerous smile before reversing their positions, Harry now slammed into the back of Severus' couch, Severus' perched between Harry's cotton coated thighs, his hips griding against the swell in Harry's pajamas. Harry stared up at Severus, panting and pink cheeked, looking so horrendously fuckable that Severus' hips canted unintentionally hard against Harry's, drawing low moans from both of them.  
"Wonderful, Potter," Severus growled, voice heavy and velveteen, "But I'm sorry to say you won't be kissing him again if I have anything to say about it... which I do..." he emphasized this with a final thrust.  
Harry whimpered and nodded.  
"So long as I get this, instead... sir," Harry moaned, voice too breathy and sensual.  
Severus drew back and stared down at Harry with dark eyes. When he spoke, his voice was cool and even once more.  
"Detention tomorrow, Potter. And another the next night for disturbing a professor. And another for being out of bed at this hour without permission," Severus pulled him up by the collar of his robe, "Now leave."  
Harry blanched, eyes dimming and shoulders slumping forward. As he turned to go, a hand tangled in his hair.  
"Oh and Harry..." Severus growled, once again using his most ragged 'sex' voice which Harry was really beginning to appreciate, "Seeing as the usual punishments don't seem to teach you anything, we'll just have to try something... new, won't we?"  
He spun Harry by the hair, slammed his lips to Harry's in a ravaging kiss and then shoved him out the door, leaving Harry facing a slammed door, dazed, pink in the face and slowly recovered. He was halfway to Gryffindor tower before he even realized Snape had called him Harry.

==/there there baby it's just textbook stuff - it's in the ABC of growing up\\== 


End file.
